[When dear old Mrs. Hay left, she gifted the Burnells' children a large doll's house.

It was
so big that the carter left it propped on two wooden in the courtyard. The house, with its
dark, oily, spinach-green color and its two little chimneys, although it had a strong smell,
was perfect. So perfect even that the smell could be ignored. "Open it quickly,
someone!"]
The hook at the side was struck fast. Pat prized it open with his penknife, and the whole
house front swung back, and — there you were, gazing at one and the same moment into
the drawing-room and dining-room, the kitchen and two bedrooms. That is the way for a
house to open! Why don't all houses open like at? How much more exciting than peering
through the slit of a door into a mean little hall with a hat-stand and two umbrellas! That
is— isn't it? — what you long to know about a house when you put your hand on the
knocker. Perhaps it’s the way God opens houses at the dead of night when he is taking a
quiet turn with an angel ...
"O-oh!" The Burnell children sounded as though they were in despair. It as too
marvellous; it was too much for them. They had never seen anything like it in their lives.
All the rooms were papered. There were pictures on the walls, painted on the paper,
With gold frames complete. Red carpet covered all the floors except the kitchen; red
plush chairs in the drawing-room, green in the dining-room; tables, beds with real bed-
clothes, a cradle, a stove, a dresser with plates and one big jug. It was even filled all
ready for lighting, though, of course, you couldn't light it. But there was something in-
side that looked like oil and moved when you shook it. The father and mother dolls, who
sprawled very stiff as though they had fainted in the drawing-room, and their two little
children asleep upstairs, were really too big for the doll's house. They didn't look as
though they belonged. But the lamp was perfect. It seemed to smile at Kezia, to say, "I
live here." The lamp was real.
The Burnell children could hardly walk to school fast enough the next morning. They
burned to tell everybody, to describe, to— well — to boast about their doll's house
before the school-bell rang.
"I'm to tell," said Isabel, "because I'm the eldest. And you two can join after. But I'm to
tell first." There was nothing to answer. Isabel was bossy, but she was always right, and
Lottie and Kezia knew too well the powers that went with being eldest. They brushed
through the thick buttercups at the road edge and said nothing. "And I'm to choose
who's to come and see it first. Mother said I might."
[While the doll’s house stood in the courtyard they might ask the girls at school, two at a
time, to come and look and stand quietly while Isabel pointed out the beauties.
As they just reached the boys’ playground the bell had begun to jangle. Isabel tried to
make it important and mysterious and whispered to the girls “Got something to tell you
at playtime.”
Playtime came and everyone surrounded Isabel while listening to her. But the only two
who stayed outside of the circle where the little Kelveys. They knew better than to come
anywhere near the Burnells.]
For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind of place
their parents would have chosen if there had been any choice. But there was none. It was
the only school for miles. And the consequence was all the children of the
neighbourhood, the Judge's little girls, the doctor's daughters, the storekeeper's
children, the milkman's, were forced to mix together. Not to speak of there being an
equal number of rude, rough little boys as well. But the line had to be drawn somewhere.
It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the Burnells, were not allowed to even speak to
them. They walked past the Kelveys with their heads in the air, and as they set the
fashion in all matters of behaviour. the Kelveys were shunned by everybody. Even the
teacher had a special voice, and a special smile for the other children when Lil Kelvey
came up to her desk with a bunch of dreadfully common—looking flowers
They were the daughters of a spry, hard-working little washerwoman, who went about
from house to house by the day. This was awful enough. But where was Mr Kelvey?
Nobody knew for certain. But everybody said he was in prison. So they were the
daughters of a washerwoman and gaolbird. Very nice company for other people's
children! And they looked it. Why Mrs Kelvey conspicuous was hard to understand. The
truth was they were dressed in "bits" given to her by the people for whom she worked.
Lil, for instance, who was a stout, plain child, with big freckles, came to school in a dress
made from a green art-serge table-cloth of the Burnells', with red plush sleeves from the
Logans' curtains. Her hat, perched on top of her high forehead, was a grown-up woman's
hat, once the property of Miss Lecky, the postmistress. It was turned up at the back and
trimmed with a large scarlet quill. What a little guy she looked! It was impossible not to
laugh. And her little sister, our Else, wore a long white dress, rather like a night-gown,
and a pair of little boy's boots. But whatever our Else wore she would have looked
strange. She was a tiny wish-bone of a child, with cropped hair and enormous solemn
eyes — a little white owl.
[Our Else, always by Lil's side, rarely spoke or smiled. She clung to Lil, following her
everywhere, communicating with tugs and twitches. The Kelveys, always understanding
each other, listened in from the edge, while Isabel proudly shared about the doll's house,
particularly its carpet, beds with real bed-clothes, and stove with an oven door, causing
a stir among the girls.]
When she finished, Kezia broke in. "You've forgotten the lamp, Isabel. " "Oh, yes," said
Isabel, "and there's a teeny little lamp, all made of glass, with a white globe that stands
on the dining-room table. You couldn't tell from a real one."
[“The lamp’s best of all”, cried Kezia but Isabell focused on choosing who would visit the
doll's house that afternoon. She picked Emmie Cole and Lena Logan, prompting the
others to vie for her attention, each claiming friendship with Isabel. Left behind, the
Kelveys, forgotten once again, drifted away.]
Days passed, and as more children saw the doll's house, the fame of it spread. It became
the one subject, the rage. The one question was, "Have you seen Burnells' doll's house?
Oh, ain't it lovely!" "Haven't you seen it? Oh, I say! "Even the dinner hour was given up to
talking about it. The little girls sat under the pines eating their thick mutton sandwiches
and big slabs of johnny cake spread with butter. While always, as near as they could get,
sat the Kelveys, our Else holding on to Lil, listening too, while they chewed their jam
sandwiches out of a newspaper soaked with large red blobs.

"Mother," said Kezia, "can't I ask the Kelveys just once?"

"Certainly not, Kezia." "But why not?"
"Run away, Kezia; you know why not."
Finally, everyone had seen it except them. That day, at dinner, the topic didn't seem so
interesting. The children, standing under the pine trees, glanced at the Kelveys eating
alone. Emmie Cole whispered, "Lil Kelvey's going to be a servant when she grows up."
"O-oh, how awful!" exclaimed Isabel Burnell, nodding along.
Then Lena Logan suggested, "Should I ask her?" “I'm not scared," Lena said, dancing over
to the Kelveys.
"Are you going to be a servant when you grow up, Lil Kelvey?" Lena asked.
There was silence. Lil just smiled shyly, not bothered by the question. The silence got
Lena mad. "Your father's in prison!" she said meanly.
The news excited the girls. They ran off, finding a rope to skip with, feeling daring and
thrilled, like never before.
In the afternoon Pat called for the Burnell children with the buggy and they drove home.
There were visitors. Isabel and Lottie, who liked visitors, went upstairs to change their
pinafores. But Kezia thieved out at the back. Nobody was about; she began to swing on
the big white gates of the courtyard. Presently, looking along the road, she saw two little
dots. They grew bigger, they were coming towards her. Now she could see that one was
in front and one close behind. Now she could see that they were the Kelveys. Kezia
stopped swinging.She slipped off the gate as if she was going to run away. Then she
hesitated. The
Kelveys came nearer, and beside them walked their shadows, very long, stretching right
across the road with their heads in the buttercups. Kezia clambered back on the gate;
she had made up her mind; she swung out.
"Hullo," she said to the passing Kelveys.
They were so astounded that they stopped. Lil gave her silly smile. Our Else stared.
"You can come and see our doll's house if you want to," said Kezia, and she dragged one
toe on the ground. But at that Lil turned red and shook her head quickly.
“Why not?" asked Kezia.
Lil gasped, then she said, "Your ma told our ma you wasn't to speak to us."
"Oh, well," said Kezia. She didn't know what to reply. "It doesn't matter.
You can come and see our doll's house all the same. Come on. Nobody's looking. "
But Lil shook her head still harder.
"Don't you want to?" asked Kezia.
Suddenly there was a twitch, a tug at Lil's skirt. She turned round. Our Else was looking
at her with big, imploring eyes; she was frowning; she wanted to go. For a moment Lil
looked at our Else very doubtfully. But then our Else twitched her skirt again. She
started forward. Kezia led the way. Like two little stray cats they followed across the
courtyard to where the doll's house stood.
"There it is," said Kezia.
There was a pause. Lil breathed loudly, almost snorted; our Else was still as stone.
"I'll open it for you," said Kezia kindly. She undid the hook and they looked inside.
"There's the drawing-room and the dining-room, and that's the..."
"Kezia!"
Oh, what a start they gave!
"Kezia!"
It was Aunt Beryl's voice. They turned round. At the back door stood Aunt Beryl, staring
as if she couldn't believe what she saw.
"How dare you ask the little Kelveys into the courtyard?" said her cold, furious voice.
"You know as well as I do, you're not allowed to talk to them. Run away, children, run
away at once. And don't come back again," said Aunt Beryl. And she stepped into the
yard and shooed them out as if they were chickens. "Off you go immediately!" she called,
cold and proud.
They did not need telling twice. Burning with shame, shrinking together, Lil huddling
along like her mother, our Else dazed, somehow they crossed the big courtyard and
squeezed out of the white gate. "Wicked, disobedient little girl!" said Aunt Beryl bitterly
to Kezia, and she slammed the doll's house to.
The afternoon had been awful. A letter had come from Willie Brent, a terrifying,
threatening letter, saying if she did not meet him that evening in Pulman's Bush, he'd
come to the front door and ask the reason why! But now that she had frightened those
little rats of Kelveys and given Kezia a good scolding, her heart felt lighter. That ghastly
pressure was gone. She went back to the house humming.
When the Kelveys were well out of sight of Burnells', they sat down to rest on a big red
drain-pipe by the side of the road. Lil's cheeks were still burning; she took off the hat
with the quill and held it on her knee. Dreamily they looked over the hay paddocks, past
the creek, to the group of wattles where Logan's cows stood waiting to be milked. What
were their thoughts? Presently our Else nudged up close to her sister. But now she had
forgotten the cross lady. She put out a finger and stroked her sister's quill; she smiled
her rare smile.
"l seen the little lamp," she said, softly.
Then both were silent once more.